The Unhappy New Year Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya  run into trouble while on an innocent visit to New York's Chinatown during the Chinese New Year celebrations.   AU #23-saga series, takes place after "The Dancing in the Dark Affair."  Rated T for some violence
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: I am taking a bit of liberty as the Year of the Dragon ended in 1965, and didn't occur again to the mid seventies, yet I am having this story take place after Illya and Napoleon are both married, each with 2 children ( and takes place after The Dancing in the Dark Affair) Part of my AU saga series.

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"_**Bùyúkuài de xīnnián shìwù**_**_The Un- Happy New Year Affair."**

"_Gōng Xǐ fā cái_wishing you the best of wealth_," Illya Kuryakin said to the man at the counter as he picked up his order of _Wonton Mein_ soup.

There was only place in Chinatown that made it the way the Russian liked it with fine lo mein noodles, wontons, lettuce, finely diced green onion and bits of pork in mild chicken stock. So whenever he was there, he made a bee-line to the small store-front restaurant to get an order in a take-out container.

This visit to Chinatown was not for an assignment, it served no purpose other than to take care of a sudden craving Illya had for the _Wonton Mein_, and convinced his partner to accompany him on his personal mission to obtain the coveted soup for lunch. They ate a full meal together, and the Wonton Mein was ordered to go.

Napoleon munched on a egg roll as his partner joined him by the door to the restaurant, watching the festivities outside on the street in celebration of the Chinese New Year.

It was the year of the dragon and a long effigy of a one paraded past, with a team of dancers hidden beneath it, performing the traditional _wǔ lóng_ dance, mimicking the supposed movements of this river spirit in a sinuous, undulating manner, symbolising the historical role of dragons by demonstrating power and dignity. It rose up and down wildly, as if it were gliding effortlessly through the air. It was one of many in the long parade.

Dragons were believed to bring good luck, reflected in their qualities of great power, dignity, fertility, wisdom and auspiciousness. The appearance of the brightly colored red and yellow and green creature was both frightening and bold but had a seemingly benevolent disposition, as the dancers made people smile while they made it move along,

The dancers were clothed in vivid uniform outfits, blending among the brilliant balloons, banners and lanterns in the long lines of participants and viewers of the lively parade. There were many dragons in this parade, along with the traditional Chinese _wǔshī _lion dancers_, _like the dragon dance, its performers mimicked a lion's movements wearing a stylized lion costume operated by only two people, unlike the dragon that needed many dancers supporting the dragon on poles. The lion dancers based their steps upon fundamental movements found in Chinese martial arts.

Firecrackers were exploding everywhere, chasing off any demons that could spoil the celebrations. Some say firecrackers were used to keep the dragon awake during the Chinese New Years celebrations because they are said to bring luck and prosperity to the community. Combined with the firecrackers, the accompanying loud music made for a raucous display and were more choreographed in their steps.

Children and young people walking or standing on the sidewalks carried red _Lai-See_ envelopes containing money they had been given for the occasion of the New Year. Red symbolized good luck and was supposed to ward off evil spirits.

Illya opened up his container of soup and was just about to spoon a _wonton _into his mouth, reminding himself to bring a container home for his daughter, Lourdes Mary, as she loved it as well, when there was a loud explosion down the block.

"That was no firecracker." Napoleon said, tossing what was left of his egg roll into a nearby steel-mesh trash container. Illya looked at his untouched soup with regret, setting the container on the edge of a silver planter, offering it to a man standing beside him. " _Xīnnián kuàilè__ _happy new year, Xiǎngshòu_enjoy,_ " he said wistfully, then took off after his partner who was already running ahead on the crowded sidewalk.

They dashed to the corner then crossed, ducking under the undulating dragon as it paused in the middle of Mott Street.

Angry words were shouted from the dragon dancers as Solo slammed into one of them, knocking him into the ground, followed by the Russian making his apologies.

"_Hěn bàoqiàn, hěn bàoqiàn... Jǐngchá yèwù_.__so sorry, so sorry...police business._" He lied as helped the man up." _Gōng Xǐ fā cái_," he added before dashing off in search of Napoleon.

Illya stopped dead in his tracks as he reached the sidewalk turning in every direction, realizing his partner had completely disappeared from sight. He stepped behind a rack of postcards in front of a novelty store, pulling his communicator.

"Open Channel D- Napoleon? I cannot see you, where are you?"

There was no reply, only static.

Illya cursed again under his breath. He heard another loud explosion, and took off in that direction, thinking it was odd the crowds around him did not react to it as it was obviously much louder than the crackling fireworks being set off along the parade route.

Dodging in and out among the people on the sidewalk; his eyes darted in every direction looking for Solo and then he spotted him. He was standing on the next corner beside a beautiful dark haired Oriental woman. Illya watched as the two of them climbed into a waiting black car, taking off before he could reach it.

"_Proklyatʹya___damnation_!" He growled in Russian. "What are you doing now Napoleon?"

He pulled his communicator again, slipping out of sight to call headquarters.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yes Mr. Kuryakin?" Answered Alexander Waverly.

"Sir, Mr. Solo and I were in Chinatown and went to investigate what sounded like an explosion, we lost contact with each other and when I caught up with him he was getting into a car with a Chinese woman. His communicator is not active."

"Describe the woman to me if you would?"

"Tall, lithe... approximately five foot ten, narrow facial features, with longer dark hair parted to the side. She was wearing a sleeveless red dress."

"I have a file in front of me for a _Chang Yan Mei _ who's photograph matches that exact description. She is associated with_D__aiyu_, the notorious _Black Jade_ gang run by her brother _Chang Kuang Hao_ and has its origins in Hong Kong. There have been a number of recent murders in Chinatown, all attributed to the Black Jade. They are involved in the weapons trade, and human trafficking...with possible ties to members of Russian crime syndicates."

"Yes sir I am familiar with _Vory v zakon_e__thieves in law_.They are bound by a code, with that class of criminal abiding by certain rules set forth in the Soviet prison system. One such rule, cooperation with the authorities any kind is forbidden."

"The _Vory_ gained control of the black market with the help of corrupt officials, supplying products such as hard to reach electronics that were not available to the ordinary Soviet citizen. I have heard rumors some of them were expanding their operations, but with the Chinese gangs, that is surprising as traditionally China and Russia have always been at odds with each other."

"Mmm, yes quite," Waverly responded. "A task force was set up by the Mayors office to deal with this gang problem, a Mister Tian, Tian Fengshan the head of the Business Association is the neighborhood representative to it. Mr. Solo attended a recent briefing with with the Mayors office, so he is well aware of the current situation." The tone of Waverly's voice changed then he paused.

"One can only hope that he recognized her and took the initiative to investigate. The alternative... his penchant for the ladies might be the death of him some day and this particular female does have a reputation for being most deadly." Waverly sighed deeply.

"I will defend Mr. Solo sir, he has been quite faithful to your adoptive niece, I assure you. Yet , Mr. Solo is also human and _Yanmei _translated means _flattering and seductive. _I hope seduction is not what took place but In this case I believe he did not go willingly, since he would not just leave, abandoning me without word."

"We'll have security monitor his communicator, if he was indeed taken against his will, perhaps he may have an opportunity to at least activate it. In the mean time, return to headquarters."

"Yes sir," Illya said reluctantly."

"Come now Mr. Kuryakin do not take that tone, Mr. Solo is a grown man and can take care of himself. Waverly out."

The Russian was still feeling down-hearted in spite those encouraging words. If he hadn't talked Napoleon into going to Chinatown to fill a craving for _Wonton Mein_, then this would not have happened.


	3. Chapter 3

Illya looked in the direction in which the car carrying his partner and Chang Yan Mei had gone, deciding he would at least walk that way. Waverly had not qualified when he was supposed to return to headquarters and would take advantage of that oversight, but then wondered if it was indeed an oversight, as the Old Man never did anything without deliberation.

The agent continued walking south on Mott, holding his communicator trying to remain inconspicuous among the crowds. Their attention was on the parade but it was others the among them that might pay attention a _guǐ _ghost_...someone that looked as he did. His eyes darted in every direction watching for interested eyes as he tried to keep his communicator from being knocked from his hand as he was jostled by pedestrians.

He hoped that he would hear from his partner or at least would pick up a ping from a homing signal, but that was as the say the proverbial long shot. Twenty minutes later that long shot came in as he heard the sharp blip indicating the homing device had been activated.

The signal increased in frequency as Illya continued moving forward, telling him he was getting closer to his partner or his communicator. There was always the possibility that Napoleon been relieved of it.

Illya tried not to let his hopes get the best of him, as the signal lead him to a grey building located off on a side street away from the noise and activity of the celebrations.

It led him away from the New Years festivities, off on a side street to the _XinXian SinWe_i Trading Company, the hame in Chinese characters on written on a banner draped to the left of the front entrance, indicating it was a fairly new company, not having a permanent sign posted yet. A golden dragon logo was painted on the glass of their front door.

Slipping on his tinted glasses; he walked inside, assuming the demeanor of a salesman, one of his many covers.

A portly grey-haired man of Oriental extraction sat behind a wooden desk in a surprisingly small room that seemed to be the office.

The grey walls were decorated with Chinese calenders and images that had auspicious meanings, but all were paper posters and had a certain impermanence about the.

There were several large plants standing in the corners of the room, each in richly decorated ceramic containers bedecked with yellow and red ribbons bearing messages wishing success and wealth, another sign this was a new business venture. Behind the desk was a single black four-drawer filing cabinet, but it all seemed a bit sparse for a business office, yet on top of the cabinet was a potted red orchid, lending a surprising breath of softness to the harshness of the room.

A banner proclaiming the year of the dragon was draped across the back wall above a pair of double doors, leading presumably to the warehouse.

_"Xīnnián kuàilè. Wǒ de míngzì shì fàn - Jan Van de Meer, wǒ dàibiǎo hélán jìnkǒu gōngsī Dienberch van Rhemen. Wǒ fāyán, qǐng yǔ nín de jīnglǐ_Happy New Year. My name is Jan Van de Meer, and I represent the Dutch import company Dienberch van Rhemen. May I speak with your manager please?"_

_Nǐ shuō xiāngdāng bùcuò de zhōngguó. Duìyú yīgè guǐ lǎo_you speak pretty good Chinese for a foreigner."_

The Russian ignored the backhanded compliment, _guǐ lǎo_ white foreigner_, a term often considered derogatory, offering him a business card for the bogus company. The telephone number on it indicating it was in Holland, but was in fact linked to an U.N.C.L.E. switchboard, with the last four digits of the number a code for the technician to reference if a call was received. She had only to flip to the coded page in her manual to respond to questions about the non-existant company being used as a cover by an agent, as well as a list of the possible cover names that could be used by anyone assuming the role. This would enable her to sound like a knowledgeable receptionist or secretary to the caller.

"If you prefer, I do speak English," Illya replied calmly.

"I don't care what you speak. No business being conducted to day, It's Chinese New Year, you come back tomorrow._ Xiànzài qù guǐ lǎo, chūqù_now go guǐ lǎo, get out! Jìnrù jìnrù_ go go!_" He shouted out in both Chinese and English, insulting Illya again.

"Perhaps I could just take a brief tour of your warehouse, that way I could report to my company that you are up to our standards as they are anxious to have a contact here in Chinatown." Illya pleaded.

A tall blond Slavic looking man stepped though the double doors, taking a challenging stance with his arms crossed in front of his rather muscular chest. There were crude tattoos on the backs of his hands and fingers, a sure sign that he had been in the prison system in the U.S.S.R. and was obviously a member of the _Vory_ . He stared at Illya, suddenly speaking in Russian.

_"Vy slyshali yego, idite syeĭchas_you heard him, now go!"_

Illya dead-panned, giving no reaction that he comprehended a word.

"I am sorry I do not understand. _Spreek je Nederlands_do you speak Dutch? Zhōngguó yěxǔ_Chinese perhaps_...English?"

"Go!" The big Russian bellowed with a thick accent.


	4. Chapter 4

Illya showed the appropriate level of indignation as he exited, prompting him to head directly to an adjoining alley to the side of the building where he hoped he might be able to peek in through a side window.

He found one that was slightly too high to do so, and pulled over a discarded milk crate, placing it on the ground beneath the window. He wiped away a think grey grime covering the pane of glass that looked as though it had never been cleaned.

There he saw Napoleon sitting bound to a chair in the back of the warehouse as _Chang Yanmei _now dressed in a red embroidered mandarin style _qípáo _dress with her hair pinned up, hovering over him with a sharp dagger in her hand. She ran it along his chin, touching it to his skin but not cutting him, then with a sudden swift gesture, she sliced away his necktie at the knot.

"Who are you and why were you at the meeting at City Hall?" She questioned Solo.

"Oh that's for me to know and you to find out Miss Chang." Napoleon smiled at her.

That answer did not make her happy, as she lightly touching the knife against his chest, cutting away one shirt button, then another."

"You know if you wanted me to undress, I could think of a more pleasant situation in which to do it, say your pla.."

She slapped him across the face, not letting him finish his attempt at flirting.

"Let us start again. You know my name, I think it only fair that I know yours?" She softened her voice, turning on a bit of charm like the flick of a switch.

He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "Well since you put it that way, the name is _Caldwell_, Eddie Caldwell and I'm a reporter for the New York Daily News. I was at the Mayors Office to cover a story on the new task force to combat organized crime in Chinatown."

"Hmmm," was all she said, then she turned her attention to the man beside Solo, tied to another chair was an Oriental man, perhaps in his later forties.

_Tián Fèngshān_," she called him, "_nǐ bèi jǐnggào bùyào gānshè, ér xiànzài nǐ jiāng wèi cǐ fùchū dàijià. Huòzhě wǒ yīnggāi shuō nǐ de jiārén_and you Tián Fèngshān, you were warned not to interfere and now you will pay the price. Or should I say your family will._

An older man was brought forward, struggling in the grip of the men who held him.

"_Dàgē_brother!"_ Fèngshān cried out.

"There is an old custom that died out in China at the turn of the century." she smiled." A traditional form ofexecution used until it was abolished. We will revive the _Ling Chior Leng T'che_ if necessary. The condemned was killed by using a knife to methodically remove portions of the body over an extended period of time."

"You see Mr. Caldwell, the term _língchí _comes from a description of one ascending a mountain slowly. The flesh is cut from the body in multiple slices, you may have heard it called _death of a thousand cuts_."

"The torturer, using an extremely sharp knife, begins by putting out the eyes, rendering the condemned incapable of seeing the remainder of the torture, adding considerably to the psychological terror of the procedure. Successive minor cuts, chopping off ears, nose, tongue, fingers, toes and genitals before proceeding to grosser cuts that remove larger portions of flesh from more sizable parts...well, you get my drift. Though in this case, it will not be done as a public spectacle, you understand of course." She smiled wickedly, "but the body would be deposited in a very public place to send a loud message to others who would interfere with us."

"So _Tián Fèngshān_ shall I begin the _Ling Chior Leng T'che _on your brother?"

_Fèngshān_ looked at Napoleon Solo with fear in his eyes, knowing that U.N.C.L.E. could not help him in this decision.


	5. Chapter 5

"No, I will tell the Mayors Office that I was mistaken, there is no gang problem here. The Deputy Mayor and Police Commissioner need to look elsewhere for those guilty of murdering the citizens of Chinatown. Maybe they need to change their search to the Bronx instead. Yes, that is what I will tell them, and I will resign from any further involvement. _Nǐ yǒu wǒ zài cǐ chéngnuò___you have my promise on this_, just please do not kill my brother?"

"Good _Tián Fèngshān_, that is much better. But just to prove I mean what I say." _Yanmei _snapped her fingers and the guards brought the brother to a nearby table, pressing his out stretched hand to it. In one quick motion before the man could react, _Yanmei _ cut off his pinky finger.

_Tián Fèngshān_ cried out as his brother screamed, Napoleon struggled to loosen his bindings without success, frustrated that he couldn't stop the vile act.

"Release him." She coldly told one of the guards, "Now you go and do as you promised. I will hold your brother and this _guǐ lǎo _as hostages. If you do not keep your word, then you will be the cause of their deaths and then we will come after you and the rest of your family.

Illya, still listening at the window, understood the implications of the _Ling Chior Leng T'che to the Chinese. _The Confucian principle _X__ià__o _meant _filial piety._ To alter one's body or to cut the body was a form of _X__ià__o __Jing_, _an unfilial practice_. _Lingchi _therefore contravened the principles of _X__ià__o_. To be cut to pieces meant the body of the victim would be unwhole in a spiritual life after death. That was unthinkable to any one who honored the traditional ways.

He hopped down from the crate, having heard and seen enough. It pained him that he was not able to prevent the man from being injured, but when he returned to free his partner; he would help the innocent as and take care of _Chang Yanmei _as well.

He felt a small sense of relief that Chang had no idea who Napoleon was, if she knew he was an U.N.C.L.E. agent; then surely she would have sliced his throat then and there.

Walking quickly out of the alley, he headed back out to the street, then disappeared back into the celebratory crowds.

The New Years festivities were still going strong on Mott Street even after the sun had set, and Illya returned to the warehouse a short while later dressed in his usual black turtleneck, black field pants, a wool cap to cover his blond hair, and black face paint smeared to camouflage his fair skin.

He carried a long coil of rope over his shoulder, attached to it a padded grappling hook, and a black briefcase in his hand that he placed on the ground. Opening it, he attached the contents to his Special, converting it to a carbine rifle, suspecting he'd need greater firepower if he ran into any trouble inside. The last thing he did was to screw a suppressor onto the end of the rifle barrel.

After two throws, Illya still was not able to catch the grappling hook, and became annoyed, uttering to himself in Russian.

"_Davaĭ Kuryakin vy mozhete sdelatʹ eto ... tri prelestʹ___Come on Kuryakin you can do this...three is the charm."_


	6. Chapter 6

The hook caught on the ledge of the building and the Russian smiled in satisfaction at his success. He gave it a few tugs to make sure it was secure, slung the rifle strap over his head, hooked the rope through a loop an a heavy belt that he wore and hoisted himself up, scaling the wall like a creeping spider.

Once he reached the rooftop, he pulled the rope up, recoiling it and putting out of sight, the he scanned for the the entrance to the roof, taking cautious steps as he approached it.

He tried the handle and found it locked, then knelt in front of it as he pulled his lockpic from the hem of his trousers and quickly opened it.

Illya turned the handle, then pulled on it carefully, hoping there would be no creaks or squeaks.

The Russian descended the stairs like a cat, taking careful calculated steps, gliding silently to the second floor. Though barely enough light for him to see, what he did see surprised him.

There were crates of partially packed semi-automatic weapons everywhere, at least two dozen as he counted them quickly.

And on one of the wall were hundreds of photographs of women and children, some rather pornographic. That angered him more than the weapons...the thought of human trafficking, especially children for the sex trade made him sick to his stomach, as he thought of his own wife and children.

Voices came from below in the the stairwell, forcing Illya to slip back into the dark shadows, pressing himself against a wall, willing himself to near invisibility.

Two men entered the second floor warehouse, deeply involved in conversation.

_Kuáng háo cháng shì dǎozhì de dài yù měiguó fèn zhī de wěidà hé fánróng, zhè jiāng shǐ wǒmen fù rén Zhāng zuǒjǐ _Chang Kuanghao is leading American branch of__D__aiyu_ to greatness and prosperity, and that will make us rich men _Zhang Zuoji__,_" the man snorted.

"_Shì hǎiluòyīn nàxiē liánjià de táocí shì yīgè juémiào de zhǔyì, Yáng Yīchén_yes making those cheap ceramic ginger jars out of heroin is a brilliant idea, Yang Yichen_," said Zuoji," and his sister is taking care of all of our troubles with that dagger of hers. I wouldn't want her on my bad side!

The two of them laughed a bit nervously at that statement.

Illya now knew who had been committing the murders in Chinatown, and the information about the heroin invaluable as more evidence for U.N.C.L.E. to step in and go after this Black Jade gang. Though where the _Vory v zakon_e came into the picture was yet unclear to him.

_Zhang Zuoji_ and _Yang Yichen_ set to work packing the wooden crates, nestling the deadly weapons with with handfuls of straw before the lids were nailed shut.

Illya took shallow breaths as he was forced to remain hidden in the shadows but as time passed dust and debris from the straw wafted into the air...he fought it back, but his allergies got the better of him and he let out a muffled sneeze.

_Zhang_ and _Yang_ pulled their pistols from their belts, heading in the direction of the sound. The Russian didn't wait for them to get to him and dove from the darkness, ramming into them like an offensive lineman, knocking them off balance with his surprise attack. He hit one after the other with a karate chop to the neck, then two shots with the suppressed carbine; he darted them.

Illya then relieved them of their handguns, tucking them into his belt and headed back to the stairs, descending carefully to the first floor.

When he deemed the coast was clear he darted behind wooden crates that had been stacked high, offering him cover across the length of the warehouse and back to where he'd seen Napoleon being held. But when Illya arrived, the chairs were empty and there was no sign of his partner or Tián Fèngshān's injured brother.


	7. Chapter 7

He heard the voice of _Chang Yanmei _coming close, this time it was not soft and seductively threatening has it had been earlier. Now it sounded like the shriek of a shrew, a whine like a spoiled child when not getting it's way.

Illya had to admit when he first saw the woman, he found her exotic appearance attractive but the more words he heard come out of her mouth, the more he became disgusted. She was definitely not a well-mannered Oriental woman.

"What you do you mean this man is not Eddie Caldwell? Why would he lie? He was there at that meeting in the Mayor's office. What other reason would he be permitted there if not to cover the story as he said." Yanmei's voice went up in pitch.

_Yīnwèi tā shì Napoleon Solo, U.N.C.L.E. Jì_because he is Napoleon Solo, an U.N.C.L.E. agent."_

"_Tā shì yīgè sǐrén! Wǒ jiāng zhíxíng duì tā de líng Chior lǐng T'che zìjǐ, shǐ tā huàn shàngle hěn cháng shíjiān_he is a dead man! I will perform the Ling Chior Leng T'che on him myself and make him suffer for a long time! Bring that bái guǐ_white ghost to the back of the warehouse. I will fetch my knife."_ She smiled viciously."And will delight in slicing him to pieces but I will leave his tongue for last so he can scream for mercy."

Illya suddenly felt a cold tingling shiver go down his spine. This woman personified evil. He had seen and dealt with many bad people in his lifetime but only a few deserved that title. His thoughts went back to the Nazis that ran Syrets, the concentration camp outside of Kyiv where as a child he had witnesser so many atrocities. He remembered those men, and _Chang Yanmei _possessed that same look in her eyes that they had. It was cold, emotionless and single minded.

Illya knew in his heart he would probably have to kill this woman if there was a confrontation. There would be no darting her. No, not this one. He had allowed that svoloch' Vasily Krantrishvasili * to live long enough by his own hand, but Yanmei was not a cowardly animal like him, she was vicious thing and could not be permitted to live.

He pulled the clip of live rounds from his pocket, switching it for the one filled with sleep darts, then followed the henchmen to where Solo was being held. They led him to a door at the rear of the warehouse, and he peeked inside after they had entered.

Napoleon seemed unharmed, but was now chained to the wall with his hands suspended above his head.

"Let's go you _nèi guǐ. _ _Chang Yanmei_ knows who you are now and that makes you a dead man."

"Excuse me, but I don't speak Chinese, what is a _nèi guǐ?" _Napoleon asked calmly.

"That mean you a spy," the other said in broken English.

"Spy?" Solo laughed. "Hey you got it all wrong buddy, I'm a reporter."

As Illya continued to listen in, he suddenly felt the cold metal of a gun being pressed against the nape of his neck.

"Drop that weapon!" Yangmei hissed at him.

Illya tossed the carbine and the guns from his belt, before she shoved him into the room with Napoleon, Tien's brother and her men. "You fools, you had another one spying on you! Chain him with his friend."

Illya knew he could not let that happen, and lashed out at her, knocking the Chinese type 77 pistol from her hand, then spun around kicking her, sending her flying back, slamming against the wall behind her.

He continued his spin, driving himself into the air kicking into Yangmei's man who was charging at him, connecting with his foot to chin, and sending him down for the count.

Napoleon kicked up his legs, latching on to the second lackey, putting him in a scissor hold until he passed out.

"Glad to see you found me tovarisch." He smiled.

.

* ref " The Dancing in the Dark Affair"


	8. Chapter 8

"No time for small talk Napoleon, we must get out of here now and contact headquarters and the police. They are smuggling weapons and heroin formed into ginger jars for import from this warehouse. We have to have this place shut down immediately." He spoke hastily.

There was a blood curdling scream from behind them. "Look out!" Napoleon yelled. Illya turned but it was too late as _Yanmei_ had thrown her knife. It landed in the Russian's right shoulder, sending him down with a yelp.

The woman picked up a pistol aiming it at Illya as she moved forward, but when she was close enough he propelled himself upwards, having pulled the blade from his shoulder; he drove it into her heart, killing her instantly. Then he grabbed her long hair, slicing it short, preventing her from going to heaven as it violated the principles of _X__ià__o_. Altering her hair was a moderate form of _X__ià__o __Jing_, and made her unwhole in the spiritual life after death. That was an apt punishment for one such as _Chang Yanmei._

Illya staggered, looking coldly at the lifeless body of the woman. Turning to his partner; he pulled a loc pic from the waist band of his trousers and freed him, then as he became light-headed from blood loss; he dropped into Napoleons arms.

Solo supported him as they went out the rear entrance of the warehouse, calling for back up on Illya's communicator as well as for an ambulance, then he returned for _Tien's_ brother. By the time help arrived everyone had disappeared from the _XinXiang SinWei Trading Company, _the only remaining people along with the body of _Chang Yanmei were _her two henchmen as well as the others that Illya had darted on the second floor.

.

"Hi there," Napoleon smiled as his partner woke in his usual bed in U.N.C.L.E. Medical. "How do you feel...and don't say fine, please?"

"Fine, I will not say I am fine."

That made Solo laugh, just a little. "You know there's going to be big trouble with _Chang Kuanghao_ and the Black Jade gang over you killing his sister, as well as shutting down his operation...Illya tell me something, why did you cut her hair?"

"To prevent her from having a peaceful afterlife in the traditional Chinese way of thinking. Napoleon she was a truly evil woman."

"All the more reason her brother will be angry then." He sighed.

"And that will be dealt with when it happens," Illya replied calmly, "If we do not catch him with his fingers in one of his other illicit operations beforehand." He stopped for a moment, composing himself. " Napoleon, there were disgusting photographs displayed on the walls of the upper floor depicting sexual perversions with women and children, so he and his compatriots are definitely involved in human trafficking and the sex trade besides their drug operation. I am not sure who, but _Chang Kuanghao_ is also in collusion with members of the Russian mob, the _Vory v zakon_e, there was one that I met when I first tried to get into the warehouse."

"Don't tell me a tall blond fellow with tattoos?"

"Yes, the tattoos on his hands were just some to the ones that are received in Soviet prisons when swearing fealty to the _Vory. _They are a vicious lot, with no scruples at all."

"An ideal partnership for the likes of Chang, and with what I saw his sister do …the Russian mob and his gang are perfect bedmates."

"Napoleon, the Black Jade Gang and the Vory make Thrush look like a bunch of cream puffs. They may be cooperating with each other now, but if any rift occurs, then New York could have a potential blood bath on its hands."

"Nice word usage," Solo smiled, pausing for a moment to absorb what Illya had just said. As a decent man, a husband and father, such affairs were morally repugnant to him. For the moment, he decided to change the subject not wanting to think about it. "By the way, I never said thanks for coming after me _tovarisch_."

"How could I not, even though the Old Man told me not to, but really Napoleon, you are still getting yourself into too much trouble with women. I will not always be there to rescue you."

"Yes you will. And you know for a fact that I've been faithful to my wife, and haven't so much dallied with a woman since well before I was married, scouts honor... well maybe a kiss here and there but completely in the line of duty. I am like you, a happily married man and devoted to Bella and my little girls." He grinned. "Of course I do have a legendary reputation that still follows me where ever I go" Then paused, "So Waverly told you not go after me?"

"Of course, " Illya rolled his eyes to the legend remark. "He said you were a grown man and could take care of yourself, but then my order to return to headquarters was left, I think rather vague just for that purpose of looking for you. You know how he does that." He then smiled.

"Elliott Kuryakina walked in the door at that moment to see her husband."

"Ye better keep it that way Napoleon Solo, just a legend that is," she threatened, having overheard the last part of the conversation. "Now how did this happen when all ye did was ta go out ta get some soup in Chinatown? Illya yer daughter is quite miffed at ye for not coming home, not ta mention not getting the soup ye promised her."

"We became a little side tracked," he answered, apologetically." I am being released in the morning. I will go get it for her."

"Oh no you won't ," Napoleon said, "I'll get it, then_ you_ can give it to her. I think you need to steer clear of Chinatown for a while."

Elliott looked at him quizzically. "What's that all about?"

"Nothing,"Illya said evasively. "Could you get one for me then, as I did not get to eat my takeout?" He knew Napoleon was right, eventually the Black Jade would rise to seek their revenge, but until that happened he would not give his spirited red-headed wife cause to worry.

Elliott knew better than to ask any further questions as her husband would become even more tight-lipped if she continued to probe. He would tell her when he was ready if at all.

.

finis

(To be continued in the sequel: "The Black Jade Affair")


End file.
